Bruise on Her Neck
by songstobesung
Summary: No one lends a shoulder to cry on for girls like Santana Lopez. Even after telling them her biggest secret. Oneshot.


"Guys, I want you to pick a song that shows what you've gone through. Heartbreak, loss, joy, a mere kiss or two. It's simple and super vague, so you have to think. Okay, let's take this from the top!" Shuster turned around, attempting to teach those who weren't Cheerios a simple dance move. Santana simply stayed in her seat, and watched the pathetic losers try to dance. Quinn and Brittany left their chairs to learn it, but Santana simply had no more energy. She had to take three AP exams, since she missed them two weeks ago due to some family incidents.

Rachel Berry, that god awful troll thing, just sneered at her, like Santana should be doing something. All Santana wanted to do was flip her off. So, instead of raising that middle finger, she just sneered back, before getting up. Crossing her arms over her small chest, Santana began to dance, not as accurately as everyone else, but she stepped in beat and she clapped her hands when she was supposed to. Glee ended, and Santana got her bags.

"Santana, I want to talk to you." Shuster waved her over, and Santana rolled her eyes, but came over to the teacher.

"I have to go to Cheerios Shuester." Santana replied, tapping her foot to an unheard beat. Mr. Shuster sighed, but went on how she wasn't paying attention blah blah blah same old thing everyone was telling her lately. Santana just didn't care anymore. No was to spin it.

Life friggin sucks.

Santana ran down to Cheerios, barely getting there on time. Practice was brutal, and Santana was falling apart at the seams.

"Hit the showers, you sloppy freak show babies!" Santana groans at the overused statement, which was blasted into her ear, thank you very much. She grumbled along with the other Cheerios, who were partially stripping to the showers. Santana, on the other hand, just changed into her jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt, not willing to risk her little secret.

"San, why are you covering yourself up?" A redheaded Cheerio, Emily, asked her. Emily was a sweet freshman, who was the right amount of snarky to be a Cheerio, but her sweetness made her one of the most popular freshman in the school.

Santana smirked, "I have somewhere to be. And I plan to take a long hot shower there, instead of here." She winked at the freshman, who giggled, totally getting what Santana was saying. And with that parting statement, Santana walked out, her hips swinging sexily, and her hair floating down her shoulders, framing her face.

All the lies she's had to tell, just to keep a secret she didn't even start. It was painful, those many secrets that lined her lean body, and kept her on her toes. No one could see through the disguise she wore.

Bitch.

Slut.

Whore.

Distractions from the truth that tried to consume her whole.

She tossed and turned that night, listening to those footsteps, hoping they'd reach past the twenty seven.

_One two three four five six seven eight nine ten_

She holds her breath.

_Eleve tweleve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty._

She feels her body tighten, her face contorting into an unattractive Rachel Berry-esque shot of pain.

___Twentyone twetnytwo twentythree twentyfour twentyfive._

Her heart pounds in her chest, but she can feel it pulsing through her cold, clammy skin.

_Twentysix._

She didn't move a muscle.

_Twentyseven._

Santana listened for the

_Twentyeight._

It wasn't tonight. She breathed a sigh of relief, before getting comfortable, falling asleep with ease. It wasn't tonight. It wasn't tonight. It wasn't tonight, she was giddy with relief, and it wasn't tonight.

* * *

A few days later everyone gets to sing their songs. And every time, it's near her time to sing. And a small pit of fear grows inside her, and the bruise on her neck seems to get bigger.

All the songs people choose were lovey and cute and happy and then Santana walked over to the piano. She played the opening chords to 'Mean' by Taylor Swift. She had a sad look on her face, she began, the tempo slow and soft, unlike the original version, which was happier and filled with hope. Santana changed it so it became more hopeful as the song went on.

_"You, with your switching sides and your walk-by lies and your humiliation.  
You, have pointed out my flaws again as if I don't already see them.  
I'll walk with my head down trying to block you out 'cause I'll never impress you,  
I just wanna feel okay again."_

Seven is when it started. She was little, a little late from playing outside. A new girl, Brittany, had moved in next door, and she was nice and sweet with a pretty house and nice parents. Santana was happy to play with her dolls and sing to the radio with her. She was just a little late, a little late, and there were bruises on her arms. She wanted it to be winter, since she could wear her long sleeves then. But, it was fall, and she wore her jacket all say long, for a few days. She wasn't very happy about that, but as long as Daddy stopped, it was okay.

_"Someday I'll be living in a big old city  
And all you're ever gonna be is mean  
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever gonna be is mean _

Why you gotta be so mean?"

Santana stopped, feeling her voice waver. A confession, out there, in the open. When she looked up, no one was crying, no one had a tear, and no one got the message. She played the chorus again, singing it loudly, but keeping the soft qualities in her voice. She can feel the anger growing in her.

_"Someday I'll be living in a big old city  
And all you're ever gonna be is mean  
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever gonna be is mean _

_Why you gotta be so mean_?"

She plays a few more chords, and begins once more. She wants to end, but she can't stop now. She finally meets eyes with Brittany, who gets it now. Everything clicks. Santana was mean, because her Dad was mean. She cocks her head, lifting her pinkie. Santana grins, and lets the tears fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks.

_"I'll bet you got pushed around, somebody made you cold.  
But the cycle ends right now 'cause you can't lead me down that road.  
And you don't know what you don't know._

_"Cuz, Someday I'll be living in a big old city  
And all you're ever gonna be is mean  
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me  
And all you're ever gonna be is mean _

_Why you gotta be so mean_?"

She ends, and gets up, her Cheerios skirt swishing, and the back of her neck exposed. There were several gasps, and with a sad smile that says 'they finally understand why I'm the way I am' she runs down the hallways, in hopes someone follows her.

No one does.

No one follows the girl who causes pain and gets pain. No one follows the girl who can't handle what she dishes out.

No one ever follows girls like Santana when they're crying.

Because girls like Santana don't deserve a shoulder to cry on.

And Santana knows it.

* * *

**ANGST! How I missed you so! *hugs inner angst monster* Before you all ask, a Taylor Swift song did inspire this. I am a sick and twisted person for making a friggin TS song a story about child abuse. Pretty much, I'm a terrible weirdo. The song used in this is 'Mean' by Taylor Swift. In my mind, I slowed down the tempo, made it softer and a little harsher, and it's all piano. I know Santana doesn't play the piano, most likely, but if Kurt can straight in fanfic, well then Santana can play the damn piano!**

**Thanks for reading this, guys and girls. It mean super much a lot to me!**

**-Madi**


End file.
